Man from the very beginning of his existence have always tried to look good. From the mirror surface of the still pond near his cave dwelling to the fairness-enhancing animal fat, the early man probably did everything human and inhuman to increase the face-value. It is said that Cleopatra used to bathe in tubs of donkey milk and expensive aged wine.
Nothing’s different now. The array of products offered by the cosmetic and apparel market caters to the primal need of the earthlings – to look good.
Well – let’s say I am not really different.
Built 5 foot 4, and of the darker side of the medium complexion (which unhesitatingly goes two notches darker while in the desert sun), I have always tried to look better than I actually do – in vain, so. Except the Shah Rukh Khan endorsed ‘Fair and Handsome’ (for ego reasons only), I have contemplated trying almost everything else available at the grocery. And I admit the part-reason for this is to look visually compatible with a wife who looks much better than I.
Sheryl is fair by nature and the average Malayali has always attributed fairness to beauty. Even if it was not so, it is maybe her Stratocaster-like frame, fish like eyes or even her perfect set of teeth like how Solomon sings in Song of Songs. She has a natural waltz in her walk and with her sing-song conversation, woos everyone from infants to the aged. I do know she does not have much room in our wardrobe, but darn, almost everything looks good on her – even my old grey tees.
Let’s not even talk about the umpteen number of times the waiters have ignored my existence outrightly in the presence of my beautiful wife. My ignorance of the upper class of delicacies are a fact to this truth, but heavens, why? Am I invisible? And then I have always imagined the raised eyebrow of strangers when we introduce our marital bonds. Like – really? You-Married-to-her? look.
And I have tried. Tried to become the wallet wielding upper high class perfect built men wearing multi-pocketed three fourths and the soft colored polo’s. And the version I became into was more like the local fishermen who rolled up their pants at the FortKochi beach. I have tried my hand at getting the perfect haircut like those cool-Filipinos – only to find my head looking slightly better than a bathroom mop and getting my brains battered into near-pulp with which the Pakistani brethren call head massage. Then there are instances when the watchmen at my building discrediting my credibility as a potential resident by not allowing me in, security at office directing me to the maintenance elevator, salesmen at malls giving me the ‘do-you-have-money-for that’ look.
And this morning I admitted to my wife that I did have this great fear that I probably look like her driver than the spouse. And then she gave the usual ‘hmm’ look and said something which made me think thus..
I had my fair share of girlfriends at school, had the brawns enough to work though the nights to support my family before I was 17, and despite the off white teeth, and occasional cock-eyes, have found enough favor in Sheryl’s eyes for her to say ‘I do’. Then there are the people who think I look like Stephen Devassy, Vineeth Srinivasan, and even Enrique Iglesias with my Goatee beard. Maybe if I grew my hair and beard I might even look like Jesus. I don’t think I am that bad after all.
In fact, really, I must be really blessed and highly favoured that I am what I am now – to be in HIS image and likeness, wonderfully and fearfully made. Am I not 🙂 🙂 🙂 ?